


Give and Take

by JosephineStone



Series: My Dark/Hurt fics [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Harry Potter, Multi, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-31 20:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosephineStone/pseuds/JosephineStone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War changes people, and Harry is no exception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give and Take

**Author's Note:**

> **Beta:** [](http://eidheann-writes.livejournal.com/profile)[**eidheann_writes**](http://eidheann-writes.livejournal.com/)  
>  **Written For:** [](http://hp-darkarts.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://hp-darkarts.livejournal.com/)**hp_darkarts** ' Imperius Challenge  
> 

_There is no good and evil, there is only power...and those too weak to seek it._ —Spoken by Professor Quirrell, quoting Lord Voldemort from _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_ by J.K. Rowling  


 

Hermione was the first.

It disgusted Harry to admit it—even to himself—but she had the habit of being there, pushing him when he was at his most helpless. ‘Harry, you must get ready. People are expecting you. You can’t stay in bed forever.’ Shut up! He stood, pulled his wand out, and stepped toward her. Shut up! Shut up!

And she did.

He should have released her from the spell right then. How long before someone else would come looking for them both? What time was it? Had she come alone? He listened. No sounds came from out in the hall. He listened more. Nothing from down the stairs. If Ron had come with her, he was far off. He took a step and the movement came from someone else, someone deep inside himself he had no control over. He should have released her from the spell.

No one would know. It was what he needed—Hermione was good at giving him what he needed. Hermione stepped toward him, leaned in, and almost kissed him, but they both froze. It wasn’t what he wanted. She knelt in front of him—he should have released her. He couldn’t look at her while she sucked him off. After he came, the helplessness washed over him again.

The adrenaline kicked in as Hermione pulled back and looked up with horror in her eyes. He sent a memory spell at her before she could even think about reaching for her wand. He sighed as her expressions changed from horror, to confusion, to blank. She was a bit dazed, as he pull her up to sit next to him on the bed, and all she remembered was yelling at him to get up and then comforting him as he cried.

An hour later, Hermione smiled, took his hand, and kept close to him during the mass memorial service.

#

Harry became hyper aware of Hermione’s reactions to him. Did she show any sign of fear, hesitation, or discomfort around him? Was it hard for her to look him in the eyes like it was for him to look into hers? Did she try to avoid being alone with him? He would never do it again. How could he hurt her like that? He loved her. The thought made him sick. Any amount of time they spent alone made him rush to the nearest toilet to vomit.

He had to confess, to tell her, to beg her forgiveness.

But, she looked fine. She didn’t know. No, he could never tell her. That would force her to deal with something she had no memory of, that she was better off with no memory of. He had to fix it himself without tainting her anymore in the process. He had to deal with being alone in a room with her; it only hurt him not her.

Except they were alone too often.

‘Where’s Ron?’

‘At the Burrow. I wanted some time alone to think—’

‘I’ll go.’ He needed to go.

‘Stay. I don’t really want to be alone. I… Ron doesn’t understand. He thinks it should be so simple for me to forget about my parents. Just live in Magical districts, and let them be happy in Australia.’

‘Why don’t you just go get them?’ He fought against his stomach as he walked toward her. ‘Give them back their memories; you can still visit.’

‘What about the lives they’ve built? What if I messed something up the first time, or if I mess something up giving them their memories back? What if they’re happier without me?’

‘Hermione, they are not—’

‘I went to get them back. They were on a beach—’ Her voice shook and the tears began to fall as Harry pulled him to her and squeezed her tight against him.

‘They can live there and still know about their past.’

‘They looked so healthy. The last few years all they ever looked was worried for me.’

‘Hermione, stop.’

She did, because he made her. Harry didn’t feel the need to vomit then—he’d passed that point when he put his arms around her. What if he fucked it up this time? He didn’t kiss her, but laid her on her back across the couch. How many times could you erase a person’s memory before it had negative consequences on their minds? He pulled off her jeans and unzipped his. Was once too much? It didn’t feel like rape with her saying and doing everything he wanted her do, her expressions just how he wanted them.

But the knowledge was there in the back of his mind: she had no control over any of those things.

How much could he play with her mind before he was caught?

Before the guilt became too much?

When Ron came in, Hermione was leaking Harry’s come onto her underwear and her mind was clearing. Harry should have cleaned her up before he dressed her, but he liked the idea of doing it after, of his come staining her clothes, even for a small amount of time. It was too late once Ron had arrived. His heart pounded as he waited for them to catch him. For Hermione to notice something was off. For Ron to get jealous of Harry sitting so closely to Hermione. To notice something odd with Hermione. For them to notice Harry’s heavy breathing.

‘You alright?’ Ron asked Hermione, who smiled and said, ‘Just tired.’

She gave him a light kiss and then headed upstairs to the room they shared. Ron moved to follow her, but stopped at the base of the stairs and watched her silhouette disappear.

‘Is she really alright? She didn’t want to join us for dinner.’

‘She’s worried about her parents. She doesn’t know the right decision to make. You should talk to her about it. Bring it up. She says she thinks you don’t understand: I think she thinks you don’t care.’

Ron stared at nothing, and nodded, before he bid Harry a goodnight and headed to the stairs. He stopped a few steps up. ‘Where were you this afternoon? I was going to invite you as well, but you weren’t around.’

‘Oh.’ Harry blushed, looking away. ‘I went for a walk.’

‘Hmm, well Ginny asked after you.’ Ron headed up the stairs with another goodnight.

Harry stopped off in the kitchen for a bite to eat, before he dared sneak up the stairs himself. His hands shook. He couldn’t believe they wouldn’t notice. One foot down, the next foot joined it, then paused to listen. Nothing? Took another step. He grew braver. Two Steps. Pause. Three steps without a pause. Two more and then the landing.

His bedroom was across the hall from theirs.

Harry paused outside their door and it was quiet. Too quiet. The type of quiet only a silencing spell caused. Were they talking about him? No, he’d overheard them talking about him many times; they never silenced for that. Was the conversation so private they needed to? Or was it simple? The reason they had always silenced their room before?

They were having sex.

#

Harry had spent the afternoon fucking Dennis Creevy.

Not that Dennis would ever remember it. They talked of his brother and of the memorial service, and then Harry realised how alone they were. They were in the middle of a Muggle park, but still no one was around to see them. He cast a spell to be safe.

After that—no matter where he was, no matter who he was with—all he could see was opportunity.

‘Aren’t you going to train to be an Auror, Harry?’ Hermione pushed him again. ‘It’s what you wanted.’

‘I’m not sure what I want any more.’ The truth: he knew too well how easy magic made getting away with anything. He’d never be able to catch real Dark Wizards—only the fools too thick to cover their tracks. Naive of him to ever think otherwise. He couldn’t feel the same satisfaction with that. He couldn’t feel satisfaction with anything anymore.

Opportunities.

When he was being fitted for robes. In private rooms at restaurants—so the other customers didn’t stare while he ate. At home, when one of his friends would visit him. The few that came in groups—Seamus and Dean, Ginny and Luna—he never touched. Although, everyone found reasons to leave him alone with Ginny. He simply had no desire to touch her. She could tell, and they never got back together.

It was a small part of his life, he thought. A habit he began to think little of. One night at the Burrow for dinner, he reached down instinctively to guide a head that wasn’t there. He ate out too much.

‘You’re right, Hermione.’ Harry agreed with her the next time she brought it up. ‘I’ll sign up for training.’

As impossible as it was to catch people like himself, Harry realised he had to try.

#

The first time Harry fucked Malfoy was in the Ministry bathroom on level three.

Malfoy held on to the sink for balance, and kept his eyes fixed on Harry’s through the mirror. Because Harry wanted him to, because Harry forced him to. It became Harry’s favourite position and they repeated it everyday. Like clockwork. Malfoy was a creature of habit and went to the bathroom at the same time, so Harry followed him.

‘Potter,’ Malfoy said with a nod, as he always did, when he saw Harry standing idly in the men’s room. ‘Isn’t your department on level two?’

‘Yes, but I came here for you.’

Harry had studied the look Malfoy got after Harry’s declaration everyday. It still made no sense to him. Though he knew it was the same, some days Harry though it was a look of confusion. Other days of annoyance, tiredness, but somedays intrigue and even hopefulness. Harry suspected this had more to do with himself than with Malfoy.

It was a hopefulness day.

It was the part where Harry would cast the spell. Then told Malfoy to get on his knees while he unzipped his pants. Malfoy’s eyes widened and his jaw fell slightly ajar, but he knelt in front of Harry. He did it. And he looked up at Harry and waited for his next command.

That was when Harry realised he’d forgotten to cast the spell. Malfoy never looked at him. Harry couldn’t speak, but Malfoy figured it out. It was better. It was so much better than anything he’d done with anyone before. Malfoy followed his commands even without the spell. He didn’t need the spell with him, because he was Harry Potter. Draco Malfoy had to do whatever he said.

Only later when he thought Malfoy might have done it willingly, did his afterglow fade.

He quit casting the spell on Malfoy, and each day it became easier to boss him around.

‘Hands on the sink.’

Malfoy never hesitated. Instead of trying to decode Malfoy’s expression, Harry was trying to decode his reactions. Was he enjoying it? The thought sickened Harry. Malfoy didn’t act as though he enjoyed it. He never came. If he was enjoying it, what was he enjoying? Or was it as Harry at originally thought? He followed Harry’s orders because he was too afraid to tell him no.

‘Spread your legs. And never take your eyes off of mine.’

‘I never do.’

Harry hadn’t said he was allowed to talk. ‘You’re not allowed to come either.’ It was childish and stupid, but he wanted to punish him for speaking.

Malfoy smirked. ‘I never do.’

Harry’s body went numb and cold—Malfoy’s smirk brought back too many memories. Malfoy was unable to keep quiet that time. He was unable to follow many of their spoken and unspoken rules.

‘Quiet, Malfoy.

‘Look at me.

‘I thought I told you not to come.’

Malfoy shook, as he tried to keep standing, his eyes open, and his mouth closed. Harry fixed his pants and trousers never taking his eyes off Malfoy’s, and then right before he left, he wrapped his arms around him and kissed Malfoy’s neck.

#

A thirty-two, Harry was the youngest Head Auror in history. Like most of his achievements, it didn’t feel like one. He was very good at his job; but if anyone in his department were good at theirs, he’d have been sent to Azkaban long ago. Before he had an office to make his illegal activities that much easier in.

Adam—his cute twenty-one-year old secretary, was giving him his morning blow job—when there was a knock at the door. Most people respected his privacy, so knocking no longer set him on edge no matter what he was up to. He sighed and ordered Adam to stand as he sent off spells to clean them both up. He fixed his memory and sent him out the door.

It was Malfoy waiting on the other side.

‘What do you want?’

‘Looks like I’m not the only person you’re sleeping with around here.’

‘What do you mean?’

Draco looked back at the closed door. ‘He’s cute.’

Harry snorted. That had nothing to do with anything. He would have been using him even if he were a fifty-year-old woman. He hired Adam because he was good at his job—the same reason he hired everyone else. He was the only person Harry hired who hadn’t disappointed him. Adam’s job wasn’t to find Dark Wizards.

‘You kissed me yesterday.’

Harry felt himself blush. ‘And?’

Malfoy walked around Harry’s desk and then sat on it in front of him. He tugged on Harry’s robes making him stand in between his legs. He tilted his head back and brushed their noses together, but he didn’t kiss Harry.

‘You want me to kiss you?’

Malfoy didn’t respond.

‘You like this, don’t you? Me telling you what to do? You want me to kiss you? Then ask for it.’

‘Will you kiss me?’

Harry leaned in, but changed his mind. ‘Beg for it.’

‘Please, kiss me. I’ll do anything you want.’

He would anyway. ‘You just interrupted my morning blow job.’ His cock jumped in his pants at admitting that aloud. He couldn’t tell if Malfoy believed him or not. ‘Suck me off, and if I like it then I’ll kiss you.’

Malfoy pushed Harry into his chair and knelt before him. Harry hadn’t told him he needed to be quiet, and though it was one of their unspoken rules Harry didn’t stop him when he began moaning around Harry’s prick.

‘Come on, Malfoy. Show me how badly you want me to kiss you.’

He sucked harder and swallowed around Harry’s prick. He got Harry close—he knew when Harry was just about to come—and then he pulled back.

‘Malfoy—’

‘You want to come?’ Malfoy held him tight at the base to keep him from coming when he licked around the head. ‘Then take me to dinner.’ He stood and he let go of Harry’s erection. While Harry came all over himself, Malfoy grabbed Harry by his hair pulled his head back and kissed him. ‘I might like you ordering me around, but I take what I want.’

#

Somehow they were dating. Harry didn’t have much control in that area. Somehow everyone supported it. And somewhere along the way, Harry got some of the control he lost to Draco back. Draco, because they were dating. Because Harry couldn’t explain to anyone why he’d have sex with Malfoy, he’d defend and be with Malfoy, but that he called him Malfoy.

So, Draco didn’t know how much he did beg Harry to do things to him. Mostly sweet things. Harry loved the idea of Malfoy being needy of his affection. He’d do whatever dirty thing Harry could imagine to get some small token of affection.

If he cleaned the house naked while pretending to be a cat, then Harry would run his fingers through his hair. Harry would hold him, if he masturbated into the sauce before a dinner party. If he begged, Harry would brush his knuckles down his cheeks, his thumb across his lips, or he’d kiss him.

‘Please, Harry, kiss me. I’ll swallow your come, I’ll let you whip me, I’ll cook, if you kiss me.’

He didn’t sound very much like his boyfriend, Draco, in those moments, and that was how Harry liked it. They had plenty of sex otherwise, so when Draco noticed he was more sore than usual Harry had plenty to blame it on. It was sex with kissing, and Harry ordering Draco to touch him, not to come, and to stay silent. But not begging. Draco was sure Harry had learned that was a line they would never cross again.

Adam had to to go.

Though Draco said he knew Harry wasn’t sleeping with him, Adam’s presence still made him jealous. Draco found him a much better paying job. Harry was never informed of which department, but it was far enough away that the only accidental meetings they ever had were arriving in the morning.

The sixty-two-year old woman who replaced him was even better at organization and had less of a gag reflex than Adam, so Harry really couldn’t complain. Draco loved her. She was sweet and brought in biscuits for them at least once a week.

‘Harry,’ Hermione said, ‘I’m so glad to see you happy.’

‘Do I look happier?’

She squeezed his hand. ‘You were just so lost after the war. Trying to be the person everyone wanted you to be. I was scared you’d just lay down and never get back up again.’

‘You got me to though. I joined the Aurors.’

‘Yes, but even then you seemed out of it. Like you were just going through the motions. You do enjoy your job don’t you? Even though it is just a desk job now? It wasn’t just what everyone else wanted for you?’

Harry pulled her into a hug. ‘I made that decision Hermione. You didn’t force me to. You’re right, I was having trouble dealing with the person everyone expected me to be. And Draco did help me with that. He helped me see that no one is what everyone sees them as; and that I might not be able to stop all the evil in the world, but I am good at my job. We have the lowest crime rate since before Voldemort came to power the first time, and that is something to be proud off.’

Someone was clapping, and Harry turned to see Draco smirking at him in the kitchen doorway.

‘Shut it.’

‘I didn’t say anything.’ Draco nodded to the dining room. ‘It’s time to eat, if you’re done with your speech.’

‘Forgive him, Hermione,’ Harry said. ‘He’s never been good at taking compliments.’

#

Harry drifted toward sleep while cuddled up next to Draco.

‘Did I really help you see all that?’

‘Hmm, yes.’ Harry buried his nose into Draco’s hair. ‘You remember our first time?’ No matter how Harry looked at it he always saw it has _their_ first time, because Draco wasn’t really there before then. ‘I thought you were going to hit me. I couldn’t believe I’d said that. I almost raped you. There for a while I thought that I had.’

‘You did not rape me, Harry. Don’t think that.’ Draco pulled him tight against himself. ‘I knew you were in a dark place, but I never thought you intended to rape me.’ He kissed Harry. ‘You needed to feel in control—I understand that. The war made everyone feel out of control. I knew you’d never really hurt me, and you didn’t. You need control sometimes just like I do. We give each other that, right?’

Harry ran his fingers through Draco’s hair, and brushed his thumb down his jaw and over his lips. Draco kissed Harry’s thumb and then his mouth.

‘Yes, Draco, we give each other that.’  



End file.
